


Wren Garretson - Year 1

by Queens_Ace



Series: The Masks We Bear [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Mild Dumbledore Bashing, Mild Ron Weasley Bashing, My First Fanfic, She's not even close to Harry, Someone tampered with the Sorting Hat, Something is fishy, The usual crowd - Freeform, Told from OC POV, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queens_Ace/pseuds/Queens_Ace
Summary: Wren Garretson is an American witch that chose to go to Hogwarts. She finds it difficult to make friends her age, except maybe Harry Potter, if Ron Weasley wasn't glued to his side. Through the year, Harry starts acting suspicious and a little out of character from the person she met at the welcoming feast. What is going on and what does Nicholas Flamel have to do with it?





	1. A Suspicious Sorting

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! Please enjoy and let me know what you think, hold nothing back.

“Wren Garretson!”

On trembling legs I move to the front of the Great Hall for my turn under the Sorting Hat. Why couldn’t we go alphabetically by our first names. What house will I be in? While I love reading, I’m horrible at getting my homework done and turned in, so Ravenclaw out. Maybe it is my secondary house. I’m not the bravest of people, so Gryffindor is out. They seem obnoxious anyways. Hufflepuff seems okay, and it seems to be the fallback for those who don’t belong in the others. At least that means I’m unlikely to be sent home, right?

A moment feels like an age until finally I am on the Sorting Hat’s chair as it is lowered onto my head. My jitters finally calm as the brim hides the rest of the hall from sight.

“My, my.” a voice murmurs in my head. “This is the first time we’ve had an American witch in our halls. You lot tend to prefer to stay closer to home and go to Ilvermorny. Now, where to put you. You are of quick wit and intelligence, but not very suited for Ravenclaw. Slytherin would be best, however the powers that be say that you should be in- GRYFFINDOR!” The house was called out to the rest of the hall and I get off my stool to head for the loudest table, below the red lion banner. 

As I didn’t know anybody at the table, I sit next to a pair of redheaded twins who seem to be the trouble making type. I tune out the quiet chatter and periodic applause as I contemplate what the sorting hat said. I am best suited for Slytherin, yet ‘the powers that be’ decided I should be a Gryffindor. Isn’t the hat ‘the powers that be’? Who is messing with the sorting?

My musing is interrupted by the twins next to me cheer louder than usual. “WE’VE GOT POTTER! WE’VE GOT POTTER!” They could probably be heard back home with that volume! I look at the podium where a boy with dark hair and round glasses gets off the stool and walks to the Gryffindor table, sitting right across from me. I quietly observe him. He looks so skinny and malnourished and if it weren’t for the school age limit and the history books featuring him, I would think he was no older than eight. Deciding to wring up my hidden Gryffindor courage that I supposedly have, I reach a hand across the table.

“Hi!” I say with false cheer to hide my nerves. “My name’s Wren Garretson.” I sit there and hope he doesn’t reject me. It would be humiliating in front of the whole school. He looks at my hand in apprehension, and I honestly can’t blame him, if my observations are correct. I smile in encouragement as he places his skeletal hand in mine.

“My name’s Harry Potter.” He practically whispers. I can’t help but notice that he isn’t acting like a celebrity whether he grew up as one, or as a newfound status. Instead he seems to be trying to stay out of sight and in the shadows. My heart goes out to this petite boy, but before I can respond, a redheaded boy our age interrupts.

“Harry! I knew you’d be in Gryffindor! I’m glad we can stay friends!” The boy’s voice was loud and obnoxious and I had to use all of my concentration not to sneer at the brat. Rolling my eyes at the red head, I toss a small smile to Harry and focus on the rest of the sorting. After Blaise Zabini is sorted into Slytherin, my attention turns to the head table. 

Dumbledore is easy enough to spot in the headmaster’s chair. Prof. McGonagall sits next to him, gazing down at her new lion cubs. Across from me I hear Harry ask who was sitting next to Prof. Quirrell. I look over my shoulder and find a man in a turban who must be Quirrell as the Prefect, who must also be apart of the unknown redhead clan, next to Harry describes the dark man as Prof. Snape: Master of Potions and Hater of Gryffindors. I see both him and Quirrell glare at Harry, who hisses in pain and rubs his scar.

Before my concern is voiced, a feast presented itself on the table. Eyeing the delicious food, my distraction is complete and I dig in. I love magic!


	2. Mischief and Secret Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first week of classes go by, and new friends are made.

The first week passes by quickly in a rush of introductions and preliminary assignments. I can not stand my roommates! Parvati and Lavender are completely annoying; talking about fashion and gossiping constantly. I try to avoid them when I can. Hermione may have been a good friend, but I can’t stand her nattering on and on about everything she learned in our textbooks! I read some of them as well, but I didn’t memorize them all only for vomit out all the information whenever something comes up in conversation!

Unfortunately, I haven’t had a chance to talk to Harry since the feast. Ronald, the annoying red head, has been glued to his side. With my lack of friendship in my dorm and my unwillingness to be near Ron, I would have been completely alone if not for Ron’s older twin brothers, Gred and Forge. After their start of the year prank, we became close friends. Everyone was freaking out about the inch of water on the common room floor, though I might have not helped the situation when I splashed around, sending water to everyone taking refuge at the stairs. Some people laughed, but most glared and I was left alone as the upper years cast an impervious on the lower years. I got chewed out by Prefect Percy Weasley and I got a pat on the back, a chocolate frog, and a hand of friendship from his younger twin brothers. 

With a sigh, I break from my nostalgia and make my way to the first Potions class of the year. Taking a seat in the back row, I watch as the Slytherins and Gryffindors file in and split to opposite sides of the room. Harry sits in the front row with Ron and behind them sits Hermione next to Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas another row back. Parvati and Lavender are right in front of me chattering away about Pansy Parkinson’s ugly pink hairclip. 

Looking across the room, I observe the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy sits between Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini who has Daphne Greengrass next to him. In the next row sits Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode, and Pansy, whose hairclip is actually quite elegant. As I watch, I can’t help but wonder if any of them would have been my friend if I was properly sorted. They all seem so snooty, but I believe it’s just a mask. I can’t really tell, though.

A crash of wood on metal drew my attention to the tall form of Prof. Snape as he marches down the aisle in a flare of robes. I can’t help but be impressed by all the drama. The older Gryffindors always mutter darkly about “greasy, mean old Snape”, and part of me can see what they mean. He starts an inquisition on Harry immediately, like we should know that powdered root of asphodel mixed with a wormwood infusion should make a Draught of Living Death! I mean, really, we aren’t allowed to brew that complex of a potion until our seventh year! Only those who grew up with a Potion’s Master in their life would know that! Well, and Hermione, but she swallowed our Potion’s book.

With a grumble I start on the Boil Cure Snape is having us brew. My irritation fades as I work over the cauldron the rhythm of chopping and dicing and stirring sending me into a different headspace away from my idiot roomates, snarky professor, and cold Slytherins. I am putting the stopper in my perfectly brewed concoction when Neville’s explodes. There’s a flurry of activity as Snape yells at the “Dunderheaded Gryffindor for being completely inept”. Stepping around the mess, I turn in my potion, clean my station and equipment, and slip out of the room once the professor announces class dismissed, but not before assigning a eight inch essay on the properties of porcupine quills.

Deciding to use my free to study, I went to the Herbology section to start on my essay for Devil’s Snare. As I grab the book I’m looking for, I come across a tome on the language of flowers and my curiosity enticed me to pick it up as well. Setting aside my other books and parchment, I open the tome to a random page near the beginning:

Arum - Devotion  
Asparagus “that’s a flower?” - Fascination  
Asphodel - My regrets follow you to the grave

“Asphodel. Isn’t that what Prof. Snape asked about earlier?” I think back to the interrogation that morning and decide yes, Snape mentioned asphodel and yes, he likely knew exactly what it meant, given his profession. So what could the “heartless dungeon bat” have to regret that involves Harry. Deciding that it really isn’t any of my business, I close the giant book and start on my Herbology homework.


	3. Behind The Scenes on Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited third chapter! Sorry it took so long, I'm easily distracted and I recently got a new job!   
> How did the teachers get to the right place during the troll attack? And Professor Snape isn't completely unjust!?

The days blurred into weeks as I was caught up in a whirlwind of classes, assignments, and pranks with the twins. Before my mind could really catch up to what was going on around me, it was the end of October and better yet, Halloween. I was disappointed to hear that wizards don’t dress-up for the holiday, but I suppose it is more spiritual for actual magic users. Not to mention, dressing up as a witch like I used to almost every Halloween would be a little too literal now.

Walking to the feast, I can’t help but be excited despite the change in my personal holiday traditions. The prank the twins and I have set up is pure gold! After classes that afternoon, Fred, George, and I snuck into the kitchens and added a potion to all of the pumpkins so that when they are consumed, the person who ate them makes animal sounds! We spent so much time in the Charms section of the library, that I felt it had better work or I would probably burst into tears.

Sitting between Fred and George, with Lee Jordan next to George, I fight not to giggle at the thought of the school’s reaction. Most of the pumpkins were used for dessert, so we had a while to wait. Half way through the meal, Professor Quirrell burst through the doors screaming about a troll in the dungeons! Absolute chaos exploded in the hall as students, and quite a few teachers as well, started to panic. Everyone froze when Dumbledore called for silence and ordered the prefects to lead students to their houses.

“What is he thinking,” I hiss to the twins, who were holding my hands to keep us from being separated. “People can slip away from the crowd! Besides, aren’t the Slytherin dorms in the dungeon?”

“You’ve got a point, Birdy.” Said Fred.

“But there’s not much else we can do.” Continued George.

“Other than follow orders.” I finish. “I know, but I can’t help but feel like this is a setup or something.”

We join the rest of the Gryffindor house on a march to the tower. Despite the troll in the dungeon that should be filling me with terror, I mostly feel disappointed that our prank couldn’t play out. As I mope, I notice Ron and Harry leaving the mob of students. 

Pulling Fred and George into an alcove with me, I reach into George’s robes, ignoring his indignant “Hey!” and grab the Marauder's Map, an amazing piece of magic that told me Harry and Ron were in the Charm’s Corridor, Hermione is in the bathroom near there, I vaguely remember over hearing Parvati mentioning her crying her eyes out there, and a large dot, just labeled Troll is heading to the same corridor. Turning to the part of the map showing the dungeons, I see the teachers going in the wrong direction. I also notice that Snape and Quirrell aren’t with the teachers. Turning to the Dining Hall, I don’t see Quirrell’s dot where he was left on the floor. His dot was in the forbidden third floor corridor, with Snape’s not too far behind.

“Ok.” I say, finally facing the boys. “The troll isn’t in the dungeon anymore, the teachers are going in the wrong direction. Snape and Quirrell are up in the forbidden corridor and need to be notified as well.”

“Why do Snape and Quirrell need to be notified?” Asked one of the twins. There is too much going on to distinguish between the two of them.

“Quirrell is up to something.” I say. “I think Snape is either with him or onto him, but I can’t be certain which.”

“The slimy git is probably in on it.” Said the other twin

“I don’t believe that.” I admit. “Yes, he’s an asshole, but I think there is more to him that.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Something he said at the beginning of the year.”

“Okay. For now, let’s say we agree with you. Why is Quirrell up to something?”

“His stutter is fake; too overdone.”

“Ok, we admit that’s weird, but not overly suspicious.”

“If you want suspicious, how about the fact that Quirrell supposedly passed out in the Great Hall, but is suddenly up in the forbidden corridor?” I pin them both with a look, daring them to challenge my observations. They exchange one of their silent conversations and nod, then turn to me.

“Okay Little Bird. You take Fred and get the teachers, I’ll get after Quirrell and Snape.”  
“Oh no you don’t!” I exclaim. “I’m not letting you go up there alone! I’m going with you.” The twins look troubled, but they understood time was of the essence. 

“Fine.” Says George. “Let’s go!”

Smirking in triumph, I follow George to the forbidden third floor corridor. The smell of garlic and blood reached my nose as I turned the corner to find Professor Snape on the floor and his leg, bleeding profusely. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the sanitary pad that I always keep with me, in case of a feminine emergency. While this isn’t a housemate on her period, it is the most absorbent thing in my possession. Despite the teacher’s protests and his taking house points and giving us detention for not listening to orders during an emergency, I manage to secure the pad with a hair band from my pocket. 

“Professor.” I snap to get his attention. “We came here to tell you that the troll is in the charm’s corridor, not the dungeon, and that Harry and Ron are in that area to save Hermione!” He looks at me and then at George trying to see if this is a prank or joke, but he doesn’t find any mirth in our usually exuberant personalities. Next I know, Snape was on his feet and racing to the charms corridor despite the bloody wound on his leg. George and I follow, hot on his heels.. 

Half way there we hear a large boom and we pick up our pace and we stop in front of the girl’s bathroom where the other teachers were. George and I join Fred, just out of sight of those in the lavatory, but still in earshot, so that we heard Hermione tell the teachers about going after the troll herself and the amount of points they lost and then gained.

As the hallway emptied, Snape approached the alcove the twins and I were hiding in. “I will restore the points that I have already taken and I will award each of you ten points for actually using those brains of yours and informing teachers instead of going after them yourselves.” The twins and I just look at him in shock. “ Now, go to bed before I take those points back!” He snaps before turning with a swirl of his black cloak and heads down to the dungeon.

Sharing a look with the twins, we all dashed off before he could change his mind. On the way back to the tower I make a mental note to make sure his wound heals correctly during the detention he forgot to revoke.


	4. Party Animals and New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited fourth chapter! Sorry it took so long, I'm easily distracted and I recently got a new, new job and now I'm in a new state and finally out of my parent's basement! I know, cliche, right? At least I'm only 19 and not 39 or something....
> 
> The prank is on and Wren makes a new friend!

When we get back to the common room, we see absolute chaos. It seems that the school’s house elves sent the desserts to the common rooms, so the other house common rooms probably all sound like zoos, not that it makes much of a difference in Gryffindor’s case. Nobody notices when the twins and I slink into the crowd and take a few desserts ourselves. We know they’re spiked, but I am especially excited to try. The twins wouldn’t let me test it. I gave them the idea of having the prank have people make the sound of their animagus form. When Fred tested it, he started making weird clicking sounds and a series of high-pitched barks that I remembered hearing when I used to visit my grandparents. They said it was the gekkering of a fox.

Taking a bit of pumpkin pie, I sigh in joy and then turn to speak to George, who was next to me, but instead of human speech, a thunderous roar exploded from my mouth. George looks at me in shock and awe as I smirk at him, impressed by my fearsome roar, despite not knowing what kind of animal it was. It seems that everyone, after the initial scare from the prank started to have fun with it and continued the party. When my three shaken yearmates return, though, silence reigns as everyone stares at The-Boy-Who-Lived, his best friend, and their new companion. 

With obvious tiredness, the new trio went to their separate rooms. Deciding to check on Hermione, I said goodnight to the gekkering twins and went up to the room I shared with the intelligent girl. “Hermione?” I ask softly, so I wouldn’t wake her if she was already asleep. She rolls around her bed to face me with curiosity as I approach her. “Are you alright?” I ask, sitting gently on the edge of her bed. “I know you didn’t go after the troll yourself. Why were you all alone in there?” The suspicious gleam in her eye stung a little bit, but I can’t blame her, since I haven’t shown interest in any of our roommates until now.

“Ron said I was an annoying know-it-all,” she broke eye contact and the hurt was still there in her expression. “And that it’s no wonder that I didn’t have any friends.” Her voice was quieter near the end and I couldn’t help the guilt that lanced through me. I was one of those people who shunned her. Not meanly, but enough that I wasn’t there to help her. “Now he’s my friend, though!” she said happily. “You can’t fight a troll together and not come out friends, right?” The hope in her voice almost broke my heart. So I gave her as honest an answer as I could give.

“Not unless there are ulterior motives.” I said with a small smile. “Harry is certainly your friend, but I have never seen Ron in a good light, but maybe I’m wrong and he and I just have a natural aversion toward each other.” She met my eyes again and we could see the hope that what I say is true in both of our eyes, but we can also see the bit of doubt that lingers. “Harry will be a great friend, at least.” I say cheerfully, trying to dispel the sudden seriousness in the atmosphere. “And while we both have our boys to look after, if you want to talk to me, you can. There are just some things a girl can’t talk about with a mischievous boys.” I smirk. “Besides, it may be a good idea to have a friend that wasn’t made in a life or death situation.” That got a giggle out of her, and I felt the pride that came from causing laughter.

“Thank you, Wren.” She said, a little sleepily. “I would really like that. At the moment, though, I need sleep.”

“Ah, yes.” I exclaim. “Troll fighting must be tiring. Sleep well, our Warrior Scholar.” She fell asleep chuckling tiredly, before she could say good night. Deciding to follow her lead, I changed into my PJs and curled up in my bed, next to hers. As I drifted off, I recounted the day and I couldn’t help but wonder; What bit Professor Snape?


	5. The Not Quite Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren goes to detention with new vocabulary and more Gyffindor courage than she thought she had.

With November comes cold dampness and snow. As much as I like Winter, I’m more of a Springtime type of girl. At least it isn’t colder that New York, it’s just wetter. It’s a few months into the school year and I notice that my accent is more British than American, though my friends seem to deny it.

The day after Halloween, I head over to the Potion’s Classroom after classes. Walking in, I find the dower potion’s master at his desk, grading papers. The glare he throws me would have frozen any other person in their tracks, had they not been raised in Brooklyn. “What are you doing here, Ms. Garretson?” Prof. Snape asked in his glacial voice.

Plastering on a look of surprise and innocence, I respond in the sweetest voice I could muster (which is not easy with a New Yorker accent...) “I thought you gave me a detention yesterday, sir?” The look he gave me told me he didn’t buy it.

“I believe I revoked the detention,” he drawled, “ and I see your hooligan compatriots took advantage of that and are not with you.” He raised his eyebrow in what could only be described as a condescending manner.

“I believe that while you remembered to restore the points you unjustly took, in your deliriousness and clouded judgement, driven no doubt by the pain you were in by what ever dog you were bitten by, you forgot to actually revoke the detention you awarded me for ensuring that you didn’t bleed to death in a school of impressionable children.” I took a deep breath, and smirked at the dumbfounded look on the professor’s face. I spent my free time browsing through a thesaurus, just so I could mimick his vocabulary and see that look on his face. I bet he was not expecting that language from an eleven year old Gryffindor of all people.

After regaining his composer he sent me the glare that he saved for when Neville Longbottom messed up a potion so badly it ruined everything it touches. I only shivered a little and managed to stand my ground. “Don’t. Mock. Me.” I wonder why he speaks so slowly? With a mental shrug, I continue.

“I’m not mocking you sir. I’m merely checking into my detention and expressing my concern over your wound.” I use all of my courage to maintain eye contact, and it paid off. Glinting behind his cold mask, I found surprise, amusement, and a bit of respect hidden in the professor’s dark eyes. “I doubt you went to see the nurse.” I continue with a little more bravado. “I know a little bit of first aid, though.”

“I believe you already expressed your knowledge in first aid, Ms. Garretson.” Prof. Snape drawled. “As it has been a day since I was inflicted with my wound, any mediocre medical aid you provide now will not be first aid. I assure you, my leg will be fine. Now forget about it and go wreak havoc with those menaces you call friends.” The dismissal in his tone is clear, but I’m far too stubborn to stand down now. Maybe I’m more Gryffindor than I originally thought.

“Unless you want your wound infected with whatever germs that dog is carrying or are floating in the air, I suggest that you acquiesce to my my request that you get some medical help, whether it’s Madame Pomfrey’s professionalism or my own mediocrity.” I glare down at the dour professor who seems to be, dare I consider, pouting! 

“I have no wish to land in the hospital wing Ms. Garretson.” He says, not at all cowed by a four foot nine girl. I open my mouth to protest, but he suddenly continues. “However, I get the feeling that you will only pester me until I get treatment, so I will guide you. One cannot treat certain things on their own, so while I am a licensed Mediwizard, I haven’t healed it yet.”

I smirk in victory, causing him to glare at me darkly, when I considered something. “Why haven’t you used potions?” I asked.

“Because potions can clean out the wound and keep away infections and scarring, but it cannot close the wound itself. The spell you will need to use is ‘Corismus’, the wound is too deep for a simple ‘Episkey’.” He instructed me calmly, for once, as I moved around the desk to kneel by his wounded leg. Looking up at him, I double check to make sure I have the incantation right.

“Christmas?” I ask, a little incredulously. “Like the holiday?”

“No, you foolish girl!” He snapped. “Cor-is-mus. It’s Latin based, meaning “Contract together. In this case, it is used to seal the wound. This is a bad idea, I can deal with this myself, get away from me.”

I glared up at him defiantly for a moment, before I quickly grab my wand and say, “Corismus!” and watch as the wound sealed shut before my very eyes. I got up with one last glare at the sour man and leave the room without a word. I can’t believe the callousness of him! And now my Thesaurus studying has left me thinking in flowery words! As I storm up to Gryffindor Tower, I can’t help be dread that the twins are going to tease me mercilessly about my new vocabulary.


	6. Quidditch and Questioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first quidditch match of the season! Who's messing with Harry's broom?

As the month of November drew on, the excitement over Quidditch escalated. The twins were constantly at practice, coming back afterwards sore and badmouthing their captain, Oliver Wood for being a slave driver. Finally, it was the day of the first match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. I sit in the stands next to Hermione, Ron on her other side and the giant grounds keeper, Hagrid, next to him. We’re all here for Harry, who became the youngest seeker in a century after our first (not quite) flying lesson.

As the game progresses, my voice starts to go hoarse with all of my cheering and laughter at Lee’s antics with the announcing. I can’t stop grinning at the lead we seem to have at the moment, until Harry’s broom gives a lurch, my stomach with it. I over hear Hagrid mention that only powerful dark magic could meddle with the charms on a broom like that. Suddenly, Hermione is up and walking away, leaving her binoculars. I pick them up to track her movements to the teacher’s stand, where I notice both Professors Quirrell and Snape not breaking eye contact with Harry’s figure at all, not even to blink. Suddenly, I see a familiar cloud of bushy hair under the teacher’s stand. Hermione knocks over Quirrell and stops behind Snape, though I can’t tell what she does until she scurries away and a cloud of smoke starts billowing from behind him. The girl actually set fire to a professor! I don’t know if I should be proud or horrified, but either way, Harry is back on his broom and manages to catch the snitch, in his mouth... Gross.

After the game, I join Fred, George, and Lee to congratulate them on an awesome game, or commentary, in Lee’s case. On the way back up to the castle, I see Hermione and her boys scurry over to Hagrid’s hut and make it a point to ask her about what’s going on when she gets back to the room tonight.

When the twins, Lee, and I get to the common room, the celebration party is in full swing, but it wouldn’t be a party without the four of us setting off Filibuster’s Fireworks off from different parts of the room. The colors were awesome and someone had snuck in Butterbeer and, if the older years’ slurring and klutziness are anything to go by, Firewhiskey.

Not long after the fireworks stopped, Harry, Hermione, and Ron stepped through the portrait hole, Professor McGonagall following not long after to break up the party. Bidding a goodnight to Fred, George, and Lee, I head up to my room. After preparing for the night, I sat on Hermione’s bed causing her to look up from her book to look at me.

“Why did you set fire to Professor Snape?” I ask, making sure my face is clear of any accusatory emotion. Unfortunately, I think I end up looking amused because of it. Her eyes widen at my question, like she didn’t expect to be caught.

“He was jinxing Harry’s broom!” She said defensively. “I read up on them, and you need to see your victim and you can’t look away for a jinx. Professor Snape wasn’t blinking!” She looked so proud of herself for doing good, that I almost felt bad for pointing out the flaw in her theory.

“Don’t counter-jinxes need visual as well?” I asked. “I saw Snape, like you did, but I also Quirrell doing the same thing.”

“But Harry steadied after I set fire to Snape’s robes!” She argued.

“Or was it when you knocked Quirrell over on your way to arson?” I countered. She grew quiet at that and I felt like I got my point across, so I said good night and curled up under my own covers to sleep, hoping that my throat isn’t sore tomorrow. Cheering, screaming, laughing, and lecturing all in the continuous span of five hours can take a toll on a person.


	7. Christmas Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit with the parents and weeks without magic!  
> Short chapter.

The month went on and I somehow managed to study and plan pranks with the twins, though I was almost able to mix the two together. Fred and George are quite clever and intelligent, they just don’t apply their wit to school. Luckily, all of the research for homemade pranks, not only helps me study for potions, charms, and transfiguration, but even gets me a little bit ahead in classes as well. I’m one of the top ten students of my year, the only people above me being Hermione, Draco Malfoy, an obnoxious Slytherin in my year, a couple of Ravenclaws, and a Hufflepuff.

Hermione usually helped me study after Harry and Ron went to bed, so in return, I usually hide her books around eleven o’clock to make sure she actually got some sleep. She claims to hate me for it, but the gratitude is in her eyes the next morning without fail. When December rolls around, it’s like a switch is flipped and everyone is talking about Christmas and the winter holidays. My family and I are flying home to America to visit Nana and Grandpa, which I’m excited about, since it’s been a year since I moved to England and I missed my grandparents, but I also felt sad, since Gred and Forge are staying at Hogwarts while their parents are visiting their brother Charlie in Romania and my parents said that they couldn’t come with us.

On the last day of the semester, Fred, George, Lee, and I play in the snow, going so far as to start a free-for-all snowball fight that turned into me and Lee versus the twins. Magic got involved, with levitation charms being used to fling the snow at each other, and I am just about to call it quits when Quirrel passes by. A look passes between the twins and there are suddenly snowballs following the timid acting professor, pelting him on the back of the head as he runs away. I laugh at the misfortune of the suspicious professor, and then run as Percy Weasley chases us. All in all, it’s an exciting day and a wonderful way to end the semester.

On the train home, I ride with Hermione, who spends the trip rereading Hogwarts: A History for the millionth time. I spend it reading ahead in charms and potions, hoping to make it into the top five students in my year for exams. Besides, the books are interesting. I don’t know how anyone can not study whatever they can when the subjects are magical rather than the English and Math classes I would otherwise be forced to endure! The twins would probably tease me about being too Ravenclaw.

As the train pulls into the station, I trade out a couple of books from my trunk to read on the plane to America, the more innocuous ones that the muggles could pass off as fantasy and make-believe, and leave the magical platform to find my parents on the muggle side. I smile when I see them, all cheerful and happy. Papa’s curly hair is a flaming crimson with golden highlights, to celebrate my Hogwarts House. His work as a hairstylist allows him to have fun with his own hair, so he has a different style and color every other month. I would love to do the same, but Mom, the ever practical, says I can’t until I’m at least fourteen and Papa says he like my dark auburn hair the way it is naturally, with large ringlets hanging down to the middle of my back.

We went straight to the airport from King’s Cross and I only managed a few chapters of my History of Magic textbook before I was asleep. I some how slept through the whole ride, only waking up as we near land. As we pass over Long Island, I look out the window and see a shimmer of what I recognise as wards, and I can’t help but wonder if there is a wizarding town down there and if I could visit. I put the wards out of my mind as we land and receive hugs from Nana and Grandpa, who are waiting for us at the baggage claim.

The Christmas break went by fast and I had to admit, I was excited to get back to Hogwarts. While I loved my family and the presents they got me, I missed my friends and being able to use magic. Why we aren’t allowed to use magic outside of school is beyond me, but I don’t want to risk expulsion. 

When my family and I get to King’s Cross, I’m immediately assaulted by an enthusiastic Hermione, her parents just behind her. “I love the book you got me on Ancient Arithmancy! The use of numbers and logic in magic is absolute genius! And the Power of Three is absolutely fascinating! Did you know-” I place my hand over her mouth, but make sure she can still breath, since I don’t think she took in any air while she was talking.

“I’m glad you like the book, Hermione.” I say. “I ended up getting my own copy, but I’m more interested in runes. Arithmancy is interesting, however it seems to be more your area of study than mine. I’ll stick to Charms, Potions, and Runes.” I smile at the bushy haired girl glaring over my hand until a feel something wet across my palm. 

“Ew!” I shout in shock. “You licked me!” I start furiously wiping my hand on my jeans as the offender just smirked at me. I can’t believe the prim and proper Hermione Granger actually licked my hand! I smirk evilly. “Do you know how long it’s been since I washed my hands?” I ask. The dawning horror on her face was priceless and I start howling with laughter as she tries to wipe her tongue of my supposed filth. She doesn’t need to know that I washed them just before we met up.

Waving goodbye to our parents, we step onto Platform 9 and 3/4 to start the new semester.


	8. Conversations and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren overhears something in the library, but pushes it out of her mind when she's hit with homesickness and a few realizations come to light.

“They’re up to something.” I hiss to Fred and George. “They seem to be sneaking around a lot and they had that detention last week that was scheduled for after curfew!” On the other side of the library, I hear Madam Pince shush someone for being too loud. The twins shared a look.

“Well, there was-”

“The 150 points-”

“They lost as well, I remember.” I finish for them. “Hermione won’t tell me what happened with that.” Silence fell upon the table as we thought about what could have caused such a significant point loss. The rumors varied, some say that they were caught sneaking into the third floor corridor, others say that they were studying dark magic, and the most popular one seems to be that they were smuggling a dragon out of the castle! All of them seemed too preposterous to be true. Poor Hermione was at her wit’s end over the bullying and rumors. No one in our house talked to her or Harry accept me and Ron. The twins could care less about the house points, but they also didn’t talk to them much in the first place, unless it was to tease their younger brother.

With a sigh, I stood up and headed to the history section to do research for my essay on the Greek Goddess Hecate and her Roman counterpart, Trivia. At the other end of the aisle, I see Ron and Harry at a study table, bent over a few books. Well, Harry was bent over a book; Ron looked to be asleep in his chair. Suddenly Hermione rushes out of the aisle next to mine with a large tome and joined the boys, hissing something about how she checked the book out weeks ago for some light reading. I’m with Ron for once, that’s light? She goes on about a guy named Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher’s Stone and how a cerberus, that is apparently the painful death in the third floor corridor, must be guarding it and how Snape is trying to get the stone.

I rush back to Fred and George without the book that I left for and pull them over to a secret passage in the back of the library that I found. It wasn’t on the map. I lead them through the secret tunnel and it leads to an empty hallway, guarded by a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, as the nameplate suggests. I start pacing back and forth as I process the information that was given to me and I can’t help but wish there was someplace private for me to tell the twins about what I heard in the library. 

On my third turn about, I see a door appear on the wall next to me. Curious, I open it up to find my bedroom from home in the US, before my family moved to England! The purple walls have dragonflies and butterflies dancing on the walls and my Avengers posters are on the wall next to my closet that is painted like the TARDIS from Doctor Who. My loft bed has some of my stuffed animals and underneath is my desk, the computer missing. Probably because electronics can’t be used around magic and the strange room didn’t know how to mimic the device.

Almost in tears, I quickly climb up the ladder to my bed and curl around my giant tiger doll, Donna. I didn’t realise just how much I missed home in this wonderful, magical world until now. Fred and George climb up and lay on either side of me, for once staying quiet in their comfort. I didn’t realise how much I had missed home until I saw this room. 

Taking a shaky breath I sit up and look down at my best friends who are lying on either side of me, looking at me in concern. I can’t help but smile a little at how they can be serious when it comes to their friends. They are my home away from home. My melancholy mood bleeds away, so I tell the boys why I suddenly dragged them out of the library. “I overheard Harry, Hermione, and Ron talking about Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher’s Stone in the library just now. Apparently that is what the demonic dog we found last semester is guarding. They seem to think Snape is after the stone.”

They sit up, look at each other, then back at me. “We know Snape can seem like an evil git” Fred starts.

“More than anyone” continues George.

“But we’ve seen him be nice to others”

“Granted, they’re usually Slytherins”

“But we’ve seen him protect others from bullying,”

“Even when it’s his own house being the bullies”

“Yeah, I noticed.” I say, picking up their line of thought. “I also noticed that Slytherins rarely start the fights. Malfoy and his goons seem to be an exception and they only pick on Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron and Snape does nothing to discourage them. He even picks on them himself, like they’re the bullies.”

“You’re not saying you actually like those slimey snakes, are you?” Fred and George say in unison.

“You’re not saying you weren’t supposed to be in Slytherin from the get go, are you?” I shoot back. “The two of you are cunning and ambitious to the core and I have already suspected that the sorting was rigged.” They both look at me as if I had slapped them, and I’m tempted to do so in order to reverse it. 

“The sorting”

“Was rigged!?” they exclaim. They share a look and Fred turns back to me, but George curls his legs to his chest and stares at my comforter.

“I was supposed to be sorted into Slytherin.” confessed George, looking a looking a little ashamed. His twin whips around to face him so quickly his head seems like it should have snapped off.

“What!?” He practically yells. I guess that George never told Fred that little detail.

“I- I didn’t want to be separated from you, Forge.” George mumbles into his knees. “I was afraid you and the rest of the family would hate me and- and disown me and I- I’d never see you again. Weasleys are always in Gryffindor. I- I couldn’t lose you Freddy.” My heart broke at the tears streaming down George’s normally cheerful face. Fred pulled his twin into his lap and held him close. I couldn’t help but feel like an interloper, but I was trapped against the wall and under George’s legs.

“Oh Georgie,” I hear Fred murmur, “did you not think of all the mayhem that we could have wrought if you were in Slytherin? Pretending to be each other would have much more exciting. No wonder you have trouble making friends in Gryffindor. I’ve always suspected it was because you felt out of place.” George look up in shock and confusion and promptly gets decked upside the head by his brother. “And how dare you think I could hate you! You are my brother and not only that, you are my twin! My other half in a non romantic way! I will never ever hate you!” My eyes were getting a little damp from the display and I force myself to look away from such a tender and personal moment. Until George addresses me.

“And what about you, Birdy?” he asks, almost as if he were afraid of the answer. I can’t help but whip around and stare at him in shock. Did he really think I of all people would reject him? Then again, he thought his own family would.

“Of course I still care about you, Gred!” I insist. “The hat wanted me for Slytherin as well, it put me in Gryffindor against its better judgement. That’s why I claimed the sorting was rigged. It mentioned that the powers that be should put me in Gryffindor!”

“That is certainly suspicious.” said Fred as George dried his eyes. “There are two people in Gryffindor who should be in Slytherin. George shouldn’t have been able to convince the hat to put him where he doesn’t belong.”

“I don’t think we’re the only ones, either.” I say. “Hermione only started to fit in after the troll incident, and even then she only hangs out with me, Harry, and your brother.”

“Harry doesn’t seem to fit in well either.” George contemplates softly. “Without Ronniekins, he seems to be more the quiet, studious type.”

“We need to figure out why the hat is missorting people.” Fred says determinedly. “And we can’t isolate any of the houses.”

An idea struck my mind and I can’t help but be sickened by it when I say “How many Slytherins were forced into that house because they supposedly have Death Eaters in their families? How many were forced into Gryffindor because their families had heros in them?” Both twins pale at the thought. “Gents, as the great Sherlock Holmes once said, “The game is afoot!”


	9. Uniting the Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren makes friends in the other houses, not all of them in happy ways.

With suspicions in place, Fred, George, and I set to work. We felt the best course of action was to make friends with the kids in the other houses, which was easier said than done. 

The Ravenclaws always seemed to be busy with whatever they were studying, but we spent enough time observing them to realise they aren’t all the academics they are stereotyped to be. They value wit and knowledge, but that doesn’t necessarily mean constant studying for the next charms exam. Many were actually studying stuff that was off the curriculum, causing them to fall behind in their classes in pursuit of other information, techniques, or data. That explains how the Slytherins are usually top of the class, they know they can’t get very far in life without good grades. Ravenclaws seem to not care as long as they can pursue that one goal.

The Hufflepuffs, surprisingly, seem to be suspicious of everyone around them. I guess it makes sense. Where Slytherin is known to be the House of Villains, Hufflepuff is considered to be the House of Pushovers, which I have a feeling is untrue. I can imagine Hufflepuffs being quite violent if the need to be arises and I do not want to be in the shoes of the person who makes a Hufflepuff snap.

The Slytherins, unsurprisingly, were openly suspicious and hostile. With the history they have not only with Gryffindor as a whole, and the twins in particular, I can’t really blame them. In the few confrontations I’ve had while trying to approach them they put up a cold front that almost had me convinced, but I could see the distrust and the anxiety in their eyes and maybe even a little bit of fear. Draco tried to scare me off by calling me a Mudblood, whatever that means, and saying that I’m not wanted there. It’s kind of strange to see through his mask in particular. Rather than the bullying prat I hear Ron wailing about in the common room, I see a boy doing his best to protect his friends in a subtle manner. He’s almost Gryffindor about it and I can’t help but be a little impressed.

Needless to say, making new friends with the other houses was very difficult. Over weeks, though, I managed to become friends with at least one person in each house who is in the same year as me. Padma Patil, from Ravenclaw, has a deep interest for Arithmancy and is more than happy to talk about a new equation she found in the library and complain about the fact that she won’t be able to take the class until our third year. I love talking to her about my own interest in languages, especially the magical and the ancient ones. She suggested that I look into ancient runes, which is useful in warding and ritual magicks. We also discuss her sister a little and she mentions that she’s surprised that Parvati didn’t end up in Ravenclaw with her. It seems the Gryffindor twin’s enthusiasm for makeup and glamour charms should have easily landed her in Ravenclaw where she could study fashion and cosmetology with people who understand her one track mind.

It took a while, but I eventually became friends with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot. It seems they are always together to protect each other. No one wants to mess with Susan, despite her Hufflepuff status because her Aunt Amelia is the head of the DMLE. Hannah seems to thrive in Hufflepuff, but Susan seems more like a Slytherin, using her position as the niece of a high ranking Ministry official to her advantage. In this case, the protection of herself and her friends. Susan seems to enjoy being a mother hen and making sure Hannah is happy and healthy and Hannah seems to enjoy the attention and making sure Susan gets plenty of it back. If the sorting is rigged, I’m glad it worked in the favor of these two, I’m not sure if one could have thrived without the other.

The Slytherins were the hardest to make friends with, I tried for weeks trying to get an in, but they all seem to think it is some sort of elaborate ploy to gain their trust only for me to crush them. It breaks my heart every time, that they have to be so distrustful at eleven years old. Eventually a window of opportunity came in late April, but I wish it hadn’t in this way. I was walking through the dungeons alone, having gone back to the potions classroom for the notebook I had forgotten (parchment makes no sense in class) when I heard a thud and a grunt. Following the noise to a shadowed alcove, I saw Daphne Greengrass being restrained by a body of an older student, while his buddy beat up Theodore Nott. I knew I couldn’t leave them, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could take them on my own. Thinking fast, I hoped my bluff worked or became truth, I shrieked down the corridor. “HELP! PROFESSOR SNAPE! TWO FIRST YEARS ARE GETTING BEAT UP!” Before I could fully move out of the way, the older teens barreled past me, knocking me to the ground, and gave me spiteful glares. Their uniforms gave showed that they were of my own house and I had a bad feeling that I’m going to be a bit of a pariah in Gryffindor for ending their “fun” prematurely. 

Before I can think too far into my soon to be infamy, I see Professor Snape charging down the hall on a warpath. “This way Professor!” I call out to him, before ducking into the alcove ahead of him. As I near the other first years I murmur a quick lumos and nearly sick up at the sight. Nott is curled up on his side, trying to protect his torso, and seems to have just passed out. His leg is at an awkward angle and he has bruises forming in multiple places. Greengrass, luckily, seems unharmed except from the bruises she received from her captor’s grip. Her face is a mess from all of the crying, though I could barely see it, since she curled up against the wall the moment the older boy let go of her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the professor kneel by Nott to tend his wounds, and if they are as bad as they look, he may be a while. I figured that there’s not much I can do to help heal the young Slytherins, but I can at least attempt to comfort Greengrass at least. I go to sit next to her and tentatively reach out to put my hand on her back. I nearly sob when she flinches, but since she doesn’t move away or snap at me, I start to rub circles across her shoulders. I hoped it would help calm her. It’s what my mom used to do for me when I came home crying after being bullied.

Slowly her breathing started to even out and she leaned into me a little bit, seeking the comfort. We stayed like that for several moments when Prof. Snape’s voice rose above the murmur he was casting spells with. “Ms.Garretson,” he said, “would you be so kind as to run to the infirmary and get Madam Pomfrey and bring her here, I have done everything I could for Mr.Nott, but he needs professional treatment and I don’t want to risk moving him yet. Take Ms.Greengrass with you.” Knowing his hatred of useless chatter, I just stand up and offer my hand to Greengrass to help her up. When she puts her hand in mine, I feel the change in the atmosphere, for the first time in decades, a Gryffindor is helping a Slytherin. With a curt nod to the professor, I gently tug the blonde girl behind me toward the third floor, where the infirmary is located. We don’t see anyone on the way up, which is fortunate, since I don’t think either of us could stand the staring that would no doubt occur, since I have yet to let go of her hand. Upon reaching the infirmary, I let go of Greengrass’s hand to run over to Madam Pomfrey’s office and pound on the door.

“What are you doing making so much noise, child!?” The mediwitch’s voice came from behind me, so I turn on my heel and give as short an explanation as I could. She rushed to get her emergency kit and told me to lead the way. I practically ran back to the dungeons, Greengrass at my side again with a determined expression. When we got back to the alcove, we saw that neither Snape nor Nott had moved, though the latter was expected, since the boy was unconscious. Madam Pomfrey sprung into action, instructing Snape of what potions she’ll need refills of after treating the battered Slytherin, then levitating him back to the infirmary, Snape right behind her.

Turning to girl next to me I ask, “Do you want to go back to the infirmary to be with Nott, or would you rather go to your common room?” She seemed surprised at my question, like she wasn’t expecting me to stay here and talk to her. Looking into my eyes, it was like she was looking for something, and must have found it, since she relaxed and even gave me a small smile. 

“I’d like to go to the common room and let everybody know what has happened.” She said shyly in a soft and breezy voice. I realised that I don’t believe I’ve actually heard her speak until this moment. She never seems to raise her hand in classes and is always with Nott or Bulstrode, neither of whom are very talkative. Shaking the thought away, I offer my hand to her again. She looks at my hand quizzically before looking at me.

“I would like to walk you there,” I offer. “ I would hate for anything more to happen to you after the trauma this afternoon has probably cause already.” Her eyes widen in anxiety and I’m about to drop my arm to my side when she reaches out and grabs it. I smile at her and give it a gentle squeeze in attempt to help her relax and we walk out of the alcove together. I was about to turn toward the entry hall when I realised, I had no idea where the Slytherin dorms even were. I mentioned this to the girl next to me and she just giggled and pulled me in the opposite direction than where I was going. As we neared the common room, and she didn’t let go of my hand, I got nervous. What if she brought me in there and I get attacked? They don’t like lions in the snake pit, and even though I was supposed to be a snake, I doubt it would help me. Before I could make an excuse to leave, I see Greengrass lean close to a wall and whisper something. The wall opened and it was too late, I just take a deep breath and hope I can make it out unscathed.


	10. In The Snake Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 10! Basically Wren's (my) opinions on houses and magic.

It seemed like the noise level in the Slytherin common room went from a seven to a zero in two seconds flat when the door opened and the Slytherins saw a snake in their midst. Tightening my grip on Daphne’s hand I look around at the sneering faces all around me and shudder. (Yes, she’s Daphne now. It’s weird calling yearmates by their last names when you’re American and we seem to have become friends, or at least friendly...)

“What’s the mudblood doing here?” An older boy sneered. I noticed a few of the other Slytherins flinch at the name and my fear vanishes. These are people that seem to know what that name means and it is worse than I initially thought. With a sneer of my own, I arm myself for a battle of wits, and I’m more than happy to attack somebody who is so obviously unarmed.

“You do realize that” I start as I carelessly lean against the door frame, “that particular insult is useless to those of us who have no clue what a ‘mudblood’ is.” The look of his the older boy’s face getting redder is very satisfying, I must say. “Besides, insulting a house guest is poor manners, even muggles know this much, so I guess that makes you worse than a muggle.” Cue him sputtering. “Not to mention muggles also seem to have more imagination than you, if they do choose to insult someone. You just scream ‘Mudblood! Mudblood!’ I mean really, I’m sure even a thoughtless baboon could do better, though to be fair to the baboon, it doesn’t seem to take much.” He starts huffing and growling, it almost seems like he’s a bull about to charge. It’s almost time for the final blow. “Besides you stuffed donkey, you don’t even know why I’m here.”

Wait for it. “You’re obviously spying on us for Gryffindor! They sent one of their least assuming to infiltrate all of the houses! I’ve seen you with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs!” There it is. 

I look straight in his eyes, “Or I could be here escorting one of your own after I saw her and her friend attacked in a hidden alcove by a couple of dildos from my own house and after getting Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey for dear Theo, I needed to make sure the lovely Ms. Daphne made it back to the dorms alright.”

“You could have set up the attack yourself, for your spying purposes!” He weakly counters. Everyone can tell that it lacked the proof or conviction, but I decide to throw him a bone before I crush his snakey spirit.

“You’re right.” I concede and everyone recoils in horror, Daphne looks at me with such utter betrayal I feel the need to hurry along the process. “I am spying on you guys. However, I would only harm somebody if it was in defense of myself or someone else. The attack was not planned by me.” With a sigh, I tell them my suspicion and the reason of my spying. “ I believe that the sorting is rigged and not everyone here is actually supposed to be in Slytherin.” It’s amusing to see the horror in everyone’s from my first supposed admission to spying to abject terror at the idea that not everyone in the room, myself excluded, is in the wrong house. A nervous second year girl, steps forward and takes a deep breath.

“The sorting hat almost put me in Hufflepuff,” She admits to the floor she’s staring at. “But it put me in Slytherin because of my uncle, Antonin Dolohov. He was really scary. I’m glad he’s in Azkaban.” I look to Daphne in confusion. My question must have been clear on my face because she quickly explain that Azkaban is the wizarding prison. Filing away the information for later, I focus on the House issue.

“I was supposed to be in Slytherin, myself.” I say proudly. “I am more cunning and ambitious than I am brave and daring. I know of at least one if not two more would be Slytherins in Gryffindor and the only reason they are there are because they have connections to the ‘Light’ or because of their muggleborn status, like me.” I start pacing as I get into the flow of my monologue. Hopefully, this gets the Slytherins on my side. “I know for a fact Hermione Granger and Parvati Patil would be better suited for Ravenclaw and Neville, though I do see his potential as a brave and daring Gryffindor, would be better suited for Hufflepuff. I have been spying on all the other houses to see who else could have been missorted. So far I have noticed a Slytherin in Hufflepuff, but I haven’t talked to enough Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to really know who else could be missorted. I suspect that they’re such neutral houses that anyone could blend in.”

Draco Malfoy stepped forward then, making me pause in my pacing. “Where is your proof?” He scoffs. “All you have is speculation. Nothing but smoke and mirrors” I put aside the strangeness of him knowing that phrase and just roll my eyes at him; He;s such a typical Gryffindor and he doesn’t even know it.... Sigh. 

“Here,” I say. “let me dumb it down for your Gryffindor sensibilities. The hat spoke to me while trying to sort me, it told me that I would be best suited for Slytherin, however, the ‘powers that be’ said I should go to Gryffindor, probably due to my muggleborn status.”

“How dare you compare me to a Gryffindork, you ignorant mudblood!” He yelled.

“I didn’t compare you to one.” I deny. “I said you were one, there is a difference. I’ve lived with Gryffindors for months now, do you really think I wouldn’t be able to recognise one? You’re loud, brash, protective, and would probably step in front of a spell to protect a friend in need. Being a Gryffindor isn’t bad, Malfoy. Gryffindors tend to be in the spotlight because they lack the subtlety of Slytherins. You aren’t the most subtle Malfoy, and that leads me to believe you’re in the wrong house.”

“Are you saying that Slytherins are too dark and sneaky for the precious light, Garretson?” Sneered a sixth year in the back of the room. Her comment drew to my attention the crowd I seem to have gathered, including Professor Snape who is hiding in the shadowed corner.

“Far from it. I believe that Slytherins can easily be in the limelight if they so wish. I’m also not naive enough to believe that light means good and dark means bad. I have begun think of magic as malevolent and benevolent. There are always going to be the people that go bad in every house. It’s not about light and dark or Gryffindor and Slytherin. It’s about intention and whether you wish to harm someone or protect someone.” Finally I’m seeing a look of realization dawn on everybody’s faces.

“But, the hat sorted me so quickly for Slytherin.” Malfoy protests weakly. “It’s because I’m the perfect Slytherin... isn’t it?” My heart goes out to the kid. I may not listen to much of the school gossip, but even I know that there is plenty of pressure to live up to the Malfoy name, including being a Slytherin.

“Malfoy- Draco, I know it’s a bit of a shock, but I’ve observed your interaction with many people. You are one of the most Gryffindor-ish people I know, in all of the best ways.” I watch as fear, nausea, denial, and finally realization and resignation cross the young Slytherin’s face. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his new found knowledge and I almost went to him to comfort him, but before I could he straightened up and an air of determination surrounded him.

“What should we do about it?” He asks me. Everyone turns to look at me, almost like I have all the answers. I know I speak and act maturely, but really? I’m only eleven. Do they expect me to tell them all how to handle this? Even Prof. Snape is looking at me curiously, if not expectantly like the others.

Making my decision, I quickly decide to rope the Slytherins into helping me and so I tell them my quick edit idea. “I need eyes everywhere. We can be seen as if we’re up to anything, so don’t change how you act on the outside, much. If you have a feeling that you were supposed to be a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff, try to make friends in those houses. I would suggest the same for the would be Gryffindors, but the only lions that I know will be safe for you to converse with are myself and the Weasley twins. Others are more of a ‘befriend at your own risk’ situation. Slytherins and Gryffindors have been at war for, I think, 113 years.” I look to Prof. Snape to see if the statistics were correct, his discreet nod confirming it.

“But it is said that Gryffindor and Slytherin themselves fought,” says Daphne. “so the war has been around for much longer than that.”

“Unless it hasn’t been.” I counter only to meet confused stares, so I elaborate. “Gryffindor and Slytherin were best friends when they built this school. What friends don’t fight? History is notorious for getting only half the story. I do suppose there must have been a fight about who was to be taught at the school, but each founder had their own opinion on the subject, so why was Slytherin driven out in particular? It makes no sense!”

“It is said,” Says the lurking professor, finally revealing his presence to the rest of the room, “that Slytherin had an issue with muggleborns and didn’t wish for them to be allowed into the institution. He thought that their blood was dirty and would contaminate the purer bloodlines.”

“But it still makes no sense.” I state. “Back then, witches and wizards followed the Olde Gods. Muggleborns were considered first generation purebloods back then. I can understand having an issue with muggles, a majority are quite intolerant of what they don’t like or understand, especially back then with the Witch Hunts, but to be prejudiced against muggleborns? How does that make you any better that the muggles that you so hate?”

“Aren’t you muggleborn?” Asks Pansy Parkinson from her spot next to Draco. “How do you know of the Olde Gods and why are you supporting anti-muggle views when your own parents are muggles?”

“Muggles do learn of the Olde Gods, we just don’t worship them any longer, which is a shame, I think they are amazing. And I’m not anti-muggle, I’m anti-prejudice, which many muggles and purebloods fall under.” I must say, I’m very surprised. No one spoke out in offence to protect their blood status, I think I really did get through to this group. 

“It’s ten minutes until curfew.” Prof. Snape said before anyone else could speak up. “I believe there is a lost Chimera who need to find her way back up to the lion’s den.” At his pointed look, I bid a quick farewell. On my way out the door I hear him say, very quietly, “Forty points to Gryffindor.”


	11. Exams and Expeditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down the rabbit hole! Wait, wrong fandom... Wren and the twins try to save their idi- erm... heroic housemates.

With my new found friendship with the Slytherins the energy seemed to shift around school. Though nothing too obvious really changed, many bullies were pranked more than anyone. A sad amount of Gryffindors ended up walking around with extra appendages, different colored hair or skin, or even charmed to crossdress! 

The night I made peace with the Slytherins, the bullies I snitched on confronted me in the common room for everyone to see. They were quick to realise that I’m not a shrinking violet about to cower at their brute tactics. Luckily, I was able to make it seem like I didn’t know who was in what house in the confrontation, which appeased most everyone, since that is such a Gryffindor thing to do. The bullies were unhappy with me because they had a month of detention, though, and Ron seemed to believe I’m some sort of traitor to Gryffindor. I ended up telling Hermione not to apologize about the git and to not defend me. What I didn’t tell her is that I wanted her to look out for Harry and that would be difficult if Ron started hating her.

Time breezes by and the weather warms up as I deal with pranks, bullies, friends, and studying. I end up forgetting about what the “Golden Trio” -as dubbed by Draco and his pack of friends- is up to until our last exam day. After we finish our tests, the twins and I wander around the lake and tickle the tentacles of the giant squid to burn some energy and nerves. I can’t help but be nervous about my exam results. What did Prof. McGonagall think of my scarlet and silver snuff box? Was my mistletoe crushed too finely for the Forgetfulness Potion? I can’t remember how I answered question 39 on the Charm’s Exam about animating inanimate objects for complex tasks! Before I work myself into a frenzy, I see Harry, Ron, and Hermione running from Mr. Hagrid’s house toward the castle.

A quick look shared with the twins had the three of us running after them. We stop just outside the doors as McGonagall basically tells the trio that they are silly children and should go off and play. Not long after she leaves, Snape comes up and accuses them of being up to something. After he’s gone, he’s proven right as we hear Harry say that they should go after the stone themselves tonight. I can’t help but be shocked, I’ve never heard Harry be that assertive, it’s just not in his nature, but I suppose he could have just grown up a little. Not that I’m not worried though. What is he thinking, going after the Philosopher’s Stone? They are a small group of first years, what can they do when there are obviously multiple protections in place? It’s too reckless!

I reach out and grab a twin in each hand, keeping them from beating some sense into their brother and his friends. “We need to wait.” I whisper darkly as I drag them back to the sunny lakeside. “If we confront them or go to a teacher right now, they’ll end up postponing their adventure at best. Two of us will track them tonight, and one of us will go get Prof. Snape. He seems to be the only teacher with sight and sense around here.” The twins nod their agreement, George more surely than Fred, and we go back to the lake. 

Later that night, I pretend to be asleep as Hermione slips out of her bed and sneaks out the door to meet her boys. After a short moment, I follow. At the base of the stairs, I find a petrified Neville Longbottom and the trio putting on a strange cloak that makes them all look invisible. It puts a bit of a damper on the plan of following them, but at least I know where they’re headed and the twins have the Marauder’s Map, so we can still follow them without seeing them. When the portrait hole opens and closes, seemingly on it’s own, I join Fred and George in the shadows by the portrait, making sure to stay out of Neville’s sight. Without a word spoken between us, George casts a disillusionment charm on all of us while Fred casts silencing spells on our feet. Grabbing their hands so I don’t lose them, I start a quick pace to the Forbidden Third Floor Corridor. We happen to get there just as Ron disappears down the hole followed quickly by Hermione, who is playing a weird kind of flute. Once she is gone, the cerebus wakes up and the twins and I are forced to retreat to the other side of the door, away from slobbery jaws. 

“We need to go after them!” Fred panics as he tries to go back to the corridor where his youngest brother disappeared, only to be held back by me. George just stares numbly at the door. “Ron may be an annoying prick, but he’s still our brother!” Deciding to take charge, I slap Fred across the face and then George. It seems to do the trick as they snap out of it. I’m glad the movies actually got something right for once.

“Shock and panic won’t help anything.” I hiss. “Fred, you need to go get Prof. Snape. Inform him of what’s happening. George, you and I will stay right here to keep an eye on the entrance. If someone comes out before Fred can get Snape here, one of us will need to stay with that person and the other will need to go find the others.” Both twins stare at me with stunned eyes, like they couldn’t believe I ended up bossing them around. Though it may be because I actually called a teacher without an honorific. “GO!” I snap at Fred after a moment of blank silence. Fred is up and running before the echo went silent. George immediately renewed the disillusionment charm that had slipped off, just incase Filch came by to inspect the noise.

The seconds that ticked by felt like years as George and I sat on the cold stone floor waiting for Fred and Snape or Harry, Hermione, and Ron to return. Finally Fred comes around the corner, Snape right at his heels. George and I finite the charms keeping us hidden, but even when we’re revealed, the professor breezes past us and heads straight for the corridor. We follow him through the door as he casts a spell that makes a waltz fill the air. He then reopens the trap door and jumps in. Trading looks with my friends, we quickly follow after him and end up landing on some cushy plant-matter that I recognise as Devil’s Snare. Snape cast a sunlight charm that forced the constricting plant to release us and retreat to the shadows. He then quickly enter a room with what look like jeweled birds flitting about in the air and a pair of wayward Gryffindors collapsed on the ground. I saw Hermione and Ron, but not Harry. I couldn’t stop the sick feeling in my stomach from forming. Looking at the pale visage of the twins, I just hand them each brooms and told them to get Ron and Hermione to the hospital wing. I turn to find Snape already walking through the next door and hurried after him. In this room holds the largest chess game I’ve ever seen! The professor must have had a key phrase or something, because instead of playing across, which I suspect is what intruders are supposed to do, the pieces parted to let him [and consequently, me] through. The next room held a troll that was even bigger than the one I saw on Halloween! Luckily it was already unconscious, because I doubt a password would work on it. 

The next chamber sealed us in with fire, potions bottles are lined up on a table in the middle of the room where he seemingly picked a potion at random. Before he could do anything a cloud of black smoke passed through the professor and then me, as I was right behind the man. The smoke didn’t hurt, or anything, but Snape seemed to shiver. I don’t know why, it felt warm and happy, like a distant memory. Lost in my ruminations, I missed Snape taking the potion and walking through the flames. Taking a sip of the potion I saw him take, I shiver in the icy chill and step through the flames unharmed, only to see the Professor hugging a, what I hope is unconcious, Harry Potter to his chest, looking like he had his heart ripped out. In a shadowed corner in the back of the room, behind Prof. Snape, I see Prof. Dumbledore looking very pleased with himself, before slipping into the shadows. I’m not sure if he saw me or not, but I shake off the feeling and head over to the distraught professor and the [thankfully breathing] unconscious boy.

“Professor?” I murmur, almost too nervous to break the silence. Snape stands with Harry in his arms, a strange red stone drops from the boy’s pocket, but the professor doesn’t notice. I pick it up quickly and continue to follow Snape as he takes him through a back exit that leads us to the infirmary. I follow my teacher and classmate through the doors of the infirmary, however neither of the twins are to be seen, so I slip out as Madam Pomfrey fusses over her newest charge.

Going back up to Gryffindor I am ambushed by a pair of worried red-heads. Engulfed in their hugs I settle us on the common room's comfiest couch by the fire and fall into an exhausted slumber.


	12. Starting Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to book one, YAY! Maybe that's a little too cheerful, given the contents. It's on the short side, but I couldn't think of anything else I wanted in there. Enjoy, if you can.

The morning after our post-exam adventure, Fred managed to wake up before anyone else and managed to wake me and George up enough to sneak back into our respective dorms. Hermione joined Gryffindor at breakfast and Ron returned to us at lunch, he was talking loudly about their adventure and I couldn’t help but want to throttle the pillock. By the time Harry was released from the hospital wing the next day, the whole school knew what had happened. Deciding that it’s none of my business, I focused on making sure I had everything packed. 

The day before the End of Year Feast, I received a letter saying that we are going to America for the summer. Nana and Grandpa had apparently died in a car accident on their way to the grocery store. They both died on impact, so my only relief is that they weren’t in too much pain. I spent the night crying in Fred and George’s arms, regretting that I didn’t make my last Christmas with them more memorable, since I was too distracted by the fact that I could do magic.

The train ride back home is a quiet affair on my part. The twins didn’t want to leave me alone, so they chat as quietly as possible for who they are and leave me to my thoughts. When we get to the station, I am greeted by my parents. The first thing that I notice is that they aren’t anywhere near as cheerful as they were around Christmas. Papa’s hair is black and Mom’s eyes are swollen and her hair is frizzy. Bursting into the tears I thought I was out of, I rush into their arms. Mom and dad sob into my hair and we curl up on the station floor. I look up over my parents shoulders to pull away to see Harry be yelled at by a man who makes most Americans look skinny. I look away, not being able to handle anyone else’s drama at the moment.

As my parents and I pull apart from our tangle of limbs and stand up, we are approach by people who could only be the rest of Fred and George’s family. Mrs. Weasley is as nice as I’ve heard as she comforts my family about our loss, giving each of us her infamous bear hugs. After explaining that we won’t be in contact do to the distance between America and England, Molly [as she insisted on being called], told us to visit when we return. After a few last promises and farewells, and a rude comment from Ron that got him scolded by his mum, my family and I head to the airport. As we board the plane, I can’t help but wonder, could this summer get any worse? I wish I hadn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments are good comments! Unless you're just plain mean, in which case you will be ignored. Constructive Criticism is very much welcome!


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